What It's Like
by InsanelyA.D.D
Summary: Johnny invites some 'friends' over and with the help of song they all teach the ones hanging from the wall, What It's Like...  One-shot.


A/N: I heard this song for the first time in a while and it reminded me of what Nny tells his victims before he kills them. I don't own the Song or Comic, but if you flame because you're a Super-Christian-as I call them-or hate hobos, then you can leave my story right now. I have a friend named Russ that looks just like Nny and he was homeless and poor, now he works for the military. If you don't know the song, look it up, it's very deep and speaks nothing but the truth, and really picture 'What it's like…'

What It's Like…

Johnny walked down to his basement; in his hands he held a new CD and a stereo. He had up on his wall a line of scum bags that had judged people just because of the unfortunate position they were in. He had them down here for a week, because just before he saw them being all judgmental, he heard a song that made him think. _Why should they get away with what they do to others? Others that can't do what I do?_ So he found all the people like that, the judgers of unfortunate people, and bought the CD to teach them a lesson. He popped in the disc and played the song.

_We've all seen the man at the liquor store beggin' for you change_

_The hair on his face is dirty, dreadlocked, and full of mange,_

_He asked the man what he could spare with shame in his eyes,_

_**Get a job, you fuckin' slob**__'s all he replied,_

From the shadows behind Johnny a few homeless men that he had seen getting picked on came forth with broken bottles old bats and a rusty kitchen knife or two. Those men saw the enemies in front of them, the ones that had been so mean when all they wanted was some money for food. As the chorus played they attacked, their victims mouths sewn shut so they wouldn't disturb the song.

_God forbid you ever had to walk a mile in his shoes,_

'_Cause then you really might know what it's like to sing the blues,_

_Then you really might know what it's like…_

_Then you really might know what it's like…_

_Then you really might know what it's like…_

_Then you really might know what it's like…_

_Mary got pregnant from a guy named Tom who said he was in love,_

_He said __**Don't worry about a thing baby doll I'm the man you've been dreaming of,**_

_But three months later he said he wouldn't date her or return her calls,_

_And she sweared god damn if I find that man I'm cuttin' off his balls,_

_And then she heads for the clinic and she gets some static walkin' through the doors,_

_They call her a killer, and they call her a sinner, and they call her a whore,_

_God forbid you ever had to walk a mile in her shoes,_

'_Cause then you really might know what it's like to have to choose,_

_Then you really might know what it's like… _

_Then you really might know what it's like…_

_Then you really might know what it's like…_

_Then you really might know what it's like…_

Now a group of young women emerged from the shadows, each with their own pair of branch cutters, they took a step towards their lying ex's and id what the song said. These men's lips were also sewn shut. The women turned to the 'Good Catholic People' that had so invitingly greeted them just last week when they went to the clinic, more quiet mouths attached to bodies that needed to be tortured.

_I've seen a rich man beg,_

_I've seen a good man sin,_

_I've seen a tough man cry,_

_I've seen a loser win,_

_And a sad man grin,_

_I heard an honest man lie,_

_I've seen a good side of bad,_

_And the down side of up,_

_And everything between,_

_I licked the silver spoon,_

_Drank from the golden cup,_

_Smoked the finest green,_

The people in charge of the slaughter were soon finished and they happily left when Nny pointed the way.

_I stroked the baddest dimes _

_At least a couple of times_

_Before I broke their heart,_

_You know where it ends_

_Yo, it usually depends on where you start,_

Johnny pulled out a chair so he could enjoy this next part; he took out one of his home phones, and all of the newest victim's IDs.

_I knew this kid named Max,_

_He used to get fat stacks_

_Out on the corner with drugs_

_He liked to hang out late at night,_

_Liked to get shit-faced,_

_And keeps pace with thugs,_

_Until late one night,_

_There was a big gunfight,_

_Max lost his head…_

_He pulled out his chrome.45,_

_Talked some shit,_

_And wound up dead._

_Now his wife and kids,_

_Are caught in the midst of all his pain,_

_You know it crumbles that way,_

_At least that's what they say,_

_When you play the game._

He looked at each ID and found them in his phone book. He dialed each number and gave the families the news. Over the line he heard crying mostly, but sometimes he heard a thank-you. He smiled; he liked it when his work was appreciated.

_God forbid you ever had to wake up to hear the news,_

'_Cause then you really might know what it's like to have to lose,_

_Then you really might know what it's like…_

_Then you really might know what it's like…_

_Then you really might know what it's like, to have to lose…_

The song played out and Nny put the CD back in its case, it was really nice to have people over, you know, that he _wouldn't_ kill. That and he now he knows that other know _What it's like…_

A/N: Review now!


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